


Domesticity in the Key of Bliss

by umbralillium



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, domestic!fic, future!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-06
Updated: 2012-10-06
Packaged: 2017-11-15 17:49:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/529992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/umbralillium/pseuds/umbralillium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A morning in the Stilinski household a few years in the future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Domesticity in the Key of Bliss

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the Teen Wolf fanfic contest. I didn't feel comfortable posting it until after they'd announced the winners. Now that they have, up it goes.

Derek jerked awake at the sound of footsteps on the stairs, his textbook falling off his chest onto the floor with a thump.

 

"Late night?" Stiles's dad asked from the foot of the stairs, a wryly sympathetic look on his face.

 

"Yeah," Derek mumbled, blinking slowly.

 

"Big test on Monday?" he questioned, heading for the kitchen.

 

Derek stood and followed him, scooping his book off the floor along the way. "Yeah," he said again, brain sluggish from studying half the night and being awakened so abruptly.

 

"Want some help?" Stiles's dad grabbed two mugs from the cupboard above the full coffee pot. "Black?"

 

"Yeah," Derek answered through a yawn, setting his book on the file-littered kitchen table. He knew he had other words somewhere, but late nights had never helped showcase his sparkling vocabulary upon waking up.

 

He laughed softly and filled both cups. "Yes to the coffee or yes to the help?"

 

"Both," Derek replied. Oh, there were his other words and manners. "Thanks, sir."

 

"Thought I told you to call me Patrick, son?" he prodded, setting the cups of coffee on the table and beckoning for Derek to join him. "Got a study guide somewhere?"

 

"Sorry, right." Derek murmured, then frowned for a moment, trying to remember where he'd left the guide. He went back into the living room and spotted the paper on the coffee table. He grabbed it and went back into the kitchen, settling at the kitchen table with a sigh, the cast on his left arm settling against the wood with a soft thunk.

 

"How's the arm?" Patrick inquired.

 

Derek paused with his coffee cup half way to his mouth and looked down at the cast. "Itchy," he decided after a moment then took a sip of coffee, sighing quietly as the warmth and caffeine flooded through him, already feeling more awake.

 

Patrick laughed. "I bet. Can't count the number of times Stiles has broken something and I had to yell at him not to scratch. Had to hide rulers from that kid so he wouldn't hurt himself even more."

 

Derek huffed a soft laugh; he wasn't surprised Stiles was more than a handful as a kid. Hell, he still was.

 

Patrick smiled and grabbed the study guide off the table. "What's your major, again?" he asked, squinting at the paper.

 

"Not sure, yet," Derek answered, watching him for a moment before lifting some files and freeing Patrick's reading glasses. "Just doing some gen. ed. classes for the time being."

 

Patrick nodded, slipping his glasses on. "Smart. Get the boring stuff out of the way so you can do the fun stuff the last few semesters," he grinned at Derek over the paper.

 

Derek couldn't help grinning back. There wasn't a lot of Patrick in Stiles, but when they smiled it was easy to see.

 

"All right," Patrick murmured, nudging Derek's book towards him. "Let's see if we can't help you get an A on this test."

 

* * *

 

Stiles woke slowly to the rise and fall of voices from downstairs. He frowned, loathe to open his eyes, and rolled over, expecting to come up against a warm body. Instead he found only cold sheets. His eyes popped open and he sat up. There wasn't even a dent in the other pillow; Derek never came to bed last night.

 

He rolled his eyes as he threw the covers back. He didn't know why Derek was stressing out so much about that stupid test. Not that anyone else would be able to tell he was stressing, but Stiles knew. Well, the pack would probably know, with their super spidey-wolf senses. But normal people wouldn't be able to tell. What passed for normal, anyway.

 

Where was he? Oh, right, empty bed. He stretched hard, then grabbed a pair of pajama pants off the end of the bed. He wasn't sure if they were his or Derek's, but they were there and they were soft and comfortable, so he was going to wear them.

 

He went downstairs and rolled his eyes when he spotted Derek's shoes by the couch. Of _course_ the idiot fell asleep studying. He'd done it more than once at their apartment in the last year and a half since they'd started at Stanford.

 

The rumble of his dad's laughter drew his attention to the kitchen, and he went over to lean in the doorway to watch his dad quiz Derek from the study guide. Derek was concentrating fiercely on his textbook, pencil bobbing in one hand while he read out loud to himself. It was one of the endearing habits that Stiles had never expected Derek to have; he always studied better by saying the words, not just reading them.

 

Stiles pushed off from the doorframe, angling for the coffee pot by way of Derek's chair. He trailed his fingers across Derek's shoulders as he passed, smiling when Derek pressed back into the touch. "Having fun?" Stiles asked, grabbing a mug from the cupboard.

 

"Oh, loads," his dad answered wryly.

 

Stiles laughed as he poured himself some coffee, adding creamer and sugar from the containers next to the coffee pot. "How long have you two been at this?" he asked, turning to lean back against the counter and watch them.

 

Derek looked up from his book finally, blinking. "Um." He looked at the clock on the microwave. "I don't know?"

 

Stiles looked to his dad, who shrugged. "An hour? Hour and a half?"

 

"Have you had breakfast, yet, at least?" Stiles inquired. They both shook their heads. Stiles rolled his eyes and headed for the fridge. "What would you two do without me to take care of you?"

 

"Wither and die," his dad answered, deadpan.

 

"Ha! You joke, but you so would," Stiles rebutted, grabbing the carton of eggs and the tub of margarine. He stepped to the side to nudge the door closed with one foot and almost bumped into Derek, who was suddenly standing there. "Hi," Stiles said quietly, smiling.

 

"Good morning," Derek answered, nudging as close as he could with Stiles's hands full, and dropped a kiss on Stiles's lips.

 

Stiles smiled against Derek's lips. "Yes it is," he replied as Derek stepped back and went back to the table. "Arm?" he asked, walking over to the counter by the stove and setting the eggs and margarine down.

 

"Itchy," Derek answered.

 

"Ugh, I know right?" Stiles groaned sympathetically. "Dad used to hide the rulers from me."

 

"So I've been told," Derek replied, and Stiles could hear the smile in his voice. He turned to get a bowl for the eggs and sure enough, there it was.

 

"Been telling stories about me, Dad?" Stiles asked, cracking eggs into the bowl.

 

"Every chance I get," was the answer.

 

Stiles rolled his eyes, but he was smiling down at the eggs as he beat them.

 

Dad started quizzing Derek again while Stiles poured the eggs into the pan. He glanced over his shoulder at them; his dad and his boyfriend sitting together--working together--and felt a warm glow settle in his chest. His smile widened as he reached for the salt and pepper. Dad deserved a reward for helping Derek study.

 

Stiles had tried when they first started at Stanford, but their learning styles were so different that they'd ended up in a petty argument. Stiles couldn't even really remember what it was--probably about whether or not there should be music on--and they finally decided to study separately from then on.

 

Derek shifted behind him; Stiles heard the scrape of plaster against wood and winced, his thoughts shifting to the reason for the cast as he stirred the eggs.

 

Derek kept telling him it wasn't his fault, but Stiles couldn't help feeling guilty. Derek was stuck in a cast for the next four weeks, because Stiles had led another Alpha right to their front door.

 

"Hey," Derek said from right behind Stiles's shoulder, making him jump slightly. He leaned back against Derek when his arms slid around Stiles's waist. "It's okay," he continued quietly. "I don't blame you."

 

" _I_ blame me," Stiles whispered, staring down at the eggs. His dad slid a pile of plates onto the counter next to stove before retreating back to the table.

 

Derek reached out and turned the burner off under the pan, then turned Stiles to face him. When Stiles just stared at his chest, he lifted Stiles head with hand under his chin. "You couldn't know he was following you. He's the one who decided to try and take our territory, what little of it we have. _He's_ the one that attacked _us_. It's not your fault."

 

Stiles nodded shortly. "I'm trying to accept that. I am," he assured Derek.

 

Derek shook his head, a fond look in his eyes. "Not yet, you aren't. But you will." He kissed Stiles's forehead before pulling away and moving the plates so they were side-by-side. "Let's eat, we'll talk about this more later."

 

"'Kay," Stiles agreed, turning and divvying the eggs up between the three plates. "Oh, damn, I forgot-"

 

"Toast," Dad interrupted. Stiles turned to see him holding up a plate with a stack of toast on it, the tub of margarine already sitting on the table with a knife resting on top of it.

 

Stiles stared for a moment. "Wow, I was really out of it," he muttered.

 

Derek chuckled and grabbed one of the plates while Stiles grabbed the other two. "You were, but we understand."

 

Stiles smiled slightly, setting one plate in front of his dad before settling in the free chair. The kitchen was quiet for several moments as they grabbed toast and passed the margarine around. Well, more accurately as Stiles grabbed toast and buttering it for himself and Derek while Derek dug into his eggs.

 

Stiles felt a nudge at his foot and glanced up at Derek, who tilted his head across the table. Stiles glanced over and saw his dad staring at him. "What?" Stiles asked, a smile starting to tug at his lips.

 

"There's salt in these," Dad said.

 

"I know, I put it there," Stiles answered, smile widening.

 

"You haven't put salt in scrambled eggs in almost seven years," his dad pointed out.

 

Stiles shrugged slightly. "Everyone deserves a treat every once in a while."

 

His dad watched him for a moment, glanced at Derek and back at Stiles. "Treat or reward?" he questioned, smiling slightly.

 

Derek coughed, obviously covering a laugh, while Stiles laughed outright. "You caught me, Dad."

 

"I always do," Dad rejoined, eyes twinkling.

 

The three of them settled to eating, then, the only sounds in the kitchen the crunch of toast and the clink of forks on plates. Once they were finished eating his dad gathered up the plates, waving Stiles back into his chair, and took them to the sink to start washing them.

 

Stiles sat back in his chair, turning slightly so he could put his feet in Derek's lap. "How was studying with Dad?" he asked.

 

Derek's cast-free hand settled on Stiles's ankle, and squeezed gently before he answered, "It was nice," he said, sounding a little surprised. "He would've made a good teacher."

 

Stiles laughed, nudging Derek's stomach with his toes. "I can't count the number of times I wished Dad was my chemistry teacher instead of Mr. Harris."

 

Derek smiled. "Yeah, it was like he guided me to the answers. He knew I knew them; he was just making sure I could find them when I needed them, if that makes sense."

 

"I get it," Stiles assured him with a nod. "He did the same thing when he helped me study in high school."

 

They fell silent, listening to Stiles's dad cleaning the dishes, and Stiles sighed contently, feeling at peace with his family around him. He smiled to himself as he thought, ' _This is our life.'_

 

End

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, many thanks to Jestana and hungrylikethewolfie for betaing this for me. If you're interested in my writing process (of which I've been posting quite a bit of lately, in and amongst flailing over Teen Wolf and Dylan O'Brien, in particular), you can find me on tumblr as umbralillium.  
> Inspired by these posts on tumblr: http://umbralillium.tumblr.com/post/30763746352/julstorres-fell-asleep-researching  
> http://umbralillium.tumblr.com/post/30687782923/hungrylikethewolfie-umbralillium


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